


Klance Oneshots

by WaywardGranger



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Fluff, Gay Panic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Pining, married
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2020-12-28 17:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardGranger/pseuds/WaywardGranger
Summary: A collection of (mostly fluffy) Klance drabbles from my Instagram





	1. Breathe

Drowning. 

Keith was drowning. 

At least, that’s what it felt like. 

One second, he was walking to his room and the other, he was on the floor, clutching at his chest, gasping for air. 

Though his knees hit the floor hard, he couldn’t quite register the pain that shot through legs at the impact. 

Though his hands were trembling and his nails digging into his chest, he couldn’t focus on the pain through his panicked breaths. 

And though his vision was blurry and his mind foggy, he couldn’t bring himself to think about anything other than the heavy fire in his chest. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he fell to the floor, but it felt like an eternity. He tried to breathe, he really did, but it was as if his body thought he was underwater. And when the body’s underwater, the instinct to not breathe is stronger than the anguish of running out of oxygen. 

But one can only hold their breath for so long. 

Then, the involuntary breaths racked every bone in his body, because there’s a higher chance of surviving even if you inhale some water than if you don’t breathe at all. 

After the first breath, Keith took another, and another, despite the pain. He closed his eyes and tried to focus his mind on inhaling and exhaling. 

The worst part, though, wasn’t the pain or even the breathlessness – it was not knowing why. 

But despite that, he kept breathing. Despite the fire in his lungs and the shaking of his bones, he kept breathing. 

Slowly, as the weight in his chest died, he found himself hugging his knees and staring into ocean blue eyes. 

Lance. 

Then it hit him that he only knew to breathe because of Lance, who was sitting across from him, legs around Keith’s trembling figure, and one hand resting gently on his knee. 

“Breathe,” he heard, as if through a glass wall. 

“Breathe,” he heard again, this time clearer, as Keith’s mind finally trekked its way out of the mud. 

“Breathe.”


	2. Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Taylor Swift's 'Lover', and a Tumblr post I saw by in-her-wildest-dreams

It was a haze.

A beautiful haze. 

The people, the laughter, the music, the _love_.

All except Lance. 

Lance was all Keith remembered of that night. His eyes, his smile, the way he danced, the way he held Keith, the way he was so elated that he seemed to be floating the whole night. And Keith wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He fondly stared at his now husband as he waved the last of the guests goodbye. 

Lance’s face was flushed from all the dancing. His hair a beautiful mess, bangs falling on his forehead. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, and the fabric of his bowtie lay slung around his neck. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbow, just how Keith liked them, and _God_, he looked so majestic in the 3am moonlight. 

Tears welled in Keith’s eyes as Lance’s eyes caught his from across the dance floor. Then, Lance smiled, and that was the end of Keith; he just about melted onto the white marble tiles. 

But Lance caught him. Just like he always did. 

“You okay there, _husband_?” he asked. 

Keith hummed contently, revelling in the way Lance said that last word. 

Lance gave him a soft peck on the lips, and intertwined their fingers. “Follow me,” he whispered. 

And Keith did. 

He let Lance guide him past the dance floor, past the billowing walls of the tent, and past the empty parking lot, into a dimly lit walkway. 

As Keith stepped foot into the walkway, soft lights flickered on above him, washing over red and blue roses lining the hedges around them. 

Keith gasped, and Lance simply chuckled, pulling Keith further, into a grassy opening sparkling with Keith’s favourite fairy lights overhead. 

“Lance,” Keith began, at a complete loss for words. 

Lance shuffled his feet and tossed his shoes to the side, then nodded at Keith, who did the same, without question. 

The grass was cold against his warm feet, and the late-night dew tickled his toes, but Keith didn’t care. Nothing the universe threw at him could ruin this night. 

Lance pulled Keith close by his belt hoop, just as the soft beat of a guitar began flowing through the air around them.   
Keith raised an eyebrow. 

“Hidden speakers,” Lance said, proudly. 

Keith giggled at this ridiculous romantic he now called his husband. 

Ah, _husband_. He’d never get tired of that word. 

_We can leave the Christmas lights up till January._

Lance led Keith to the middle of the meadow, as their song played in the background, encasing the area in its melody, shutting out the rest of the world. 

_Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?_

It was as perfect as perfection could get. The stars above them, the soft grass beneath them, and their song all around them. It was all perfect. Keith smiled as he rested his head on Lance’s shoulder, feeling so content with the world in that moment. With every passing second, the moment got more perfect. With every passing second, all the worries of the world ebbed away. With every passing second, Keith fell more in love with Lance. 

_Can we always be this close?_

Lance’s head rested against Keith’s as they silently swayed to the music. He’d never felt more at peace in his life. It wasn’t the fact that they’d just gotten married, or that they were so crazy in love, but rather the fact that they’d promised each other forever. They’d promised commitment, and tolerance, and teamwork. And Lance wouldn’t promise anyone else that. Him and Keith were, in fact, the best team, and that would be what helped them last until their dying breaths. Teamwork. Forever. 

Lance lifted his head and turned Keith’s toward him, kissing him as a promise, as an unbreakable vow, as an oath to make forever work. 

Keith hummed into the kiss, pledging the exact same. 

_Ladies and gentlemen will you please stand_

_With every guitar string scar on my hand_

“I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover,” Lance sang against Keith’s lips. 

And that was it. And it was perfect. 

And over the years, right up until his last breath, this was the memory Keith came back to again and again. 

_You’re my, my, my, my_

_Oh, you’re my, my, my, my _

_Darling, you’re my, my, my, my _

_Lover._


	3. The Great Debate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mention of divorce. But like, not in a serious way???
> 
> This was my attempt at Bleu's dtiys aka the debate on if socks are legal in bed or not lol

Keith strolled out of the room waving a washcloth in the air, with Lance hot on his heels. 

“Lance, it’s been ten years,” he stated. “Why are we still arguing about this?”

Lance threw his hands in the air. “Because it’s been ten years and you still refuse to listen to me, you fucking madman!”

Shiro walked in from the kitchen, concern painted all over his face. “Guys, what’s going on?” 

Lance shot him a disapproving look. “Nothing.”

Keith sighed and shook his head. “Don’t worry, it’s-”

“Please don’t get a divorce,” said a small, squeaky voice. 

Everyone immediately turned toward the archway, under which stood a small girl in her pyjamas, holding the wall for support. 

Keith’s eyes shot daggers at Lance as he walked past him and extended his arms. The little girl ran into his arms, and he gently readjusted her, so she was on his waist, her little arms wrapping around his neck. 

“No, Autumn, honey, we won’t get a divorce.” Keith kissed the top of her head. “This is just a silly argument, right baby?” he looked at Lance. 

Lance huffed and crossed his arms. “This is your fault and you know it.”

Shiro threw his arms in the air. “Guys, seriously-”

“Look at her feet!” Lance exclaimed, gesturing wildly at his daughter. “Who the fuck does this?”

“Lance, language.” Keith placed a hand over Autumn’s ear. 

“_Whom_ the fuck does this?!”

Shiro took a couple of steps and stood in between the couple. “What’s wrong with her feet?” he asked, perplexed. 

“She’s wearing socks!” Lance yelled, eyes wide and frantic. 

Shiro raised an eyebrow. 

“To _bed_!”

Shiro reeled back in disgust. “Keith, I raised you better than this.” 

Keith rolled his eyes at Lance. “Her feet get cold. _My _feet get cold. What do you want me to do?” 

“WHAT’S A BLANKET FOR? WHAT AM _I_ FOR?”

Keith stared at him, incredulously. “You’re my husband, not a foot warmer.”

“Well who says I can’t be both?” 

Autumn then wiggled out of Keith’s hold and ran off to her room. Keith watched her go, and when she disappeared out of their view, he gave Lance a pointed look. “This is getting out of hand.” 

“For a reason,” Lance clapped between each word. “Keith,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Baby, I love you, but this ain’t it,” he gestured to his feet, also covered in socks. 

Keith threw the washcloth on his shoulder. “Lance, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Lance inhaled. “This is why your feet stink in the mornings. Let them brEaTHe! Ten years is more than enough for me to tolerate your shit. And now you’re pushing this onto our kid. I swear to the Lord above, I will bURN all your socks.”

Keith laughed. “I don’t understand. They’re just socks.”

Lance pointed a finger at Keith. “No. They’re Satan’s stanky textiles.”

“What the absolute fu-”

Now, Lance didn’t know how the rest of the story happened. All he remembered was lying in the middle of their living room, under a pile of socks, while Keith and Autumn marched around him in some sort of rebellious parade. 

Shiro, who was supposed to be on Lance’s side, was too busy laughing to start an anti-socks-in-bed revolution with him. Pidge, who had come over sometime during their argument, had sided with Keith. Matt was totally useless, as he sat on the sofa, filming the whole charade. 

So, Lance just laid on the floor in defeat, pondering what sort of sock related drama his future will torment him with.


	4. Fond Faults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for the 'Sunday Morning' prompt for @vhms0ul 's #fallklancecosytime

It felt like Lance was stuck in a fairy tale. 

And he loved it. 

The soft morning sunlight filtered through the curtains blowing lightly around the open windows. Low chirping rippled through the room, catching Lance’s ears. Birds. There were birds. 

His lips curled into a soft, lazy smile, as he lay under his comforter, listening to the ethereal sounds of his planet.

“Keith,” he said, patting the bed to find his husband. “Baby,” he whined, turning over and finally opening his eyes. 

The bed was empty. 

Lance sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He blinked at the empty spot beside him. “Keith?” he called, a little louder. 

No answer. 

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Wasn’t it Sunday? Keith was always home on Sundays. It took a moment, but then it hit him. _Oh my god, it’s Sunday_.

Lance leapt out of bed and ran out the room in nothing but his sweatpants, mumbling profanities at himself under his breath. 

He skidded to a stop in the kitchen, almost choking when he saw the sight in front of him. 

The kitchen was a horrifying mess. Bowls and pans were scattered all over the counters, littered with flour, and sauce, and god knows what else. The floor was wet and slippery, and an odd odour stung his nose. A steady stream of smoke was rising from the stove. 

And in the middle of it all, was Keith. On the floor. 

His legs were spread out in front of him as he pouted at what looked like burnt toast soaking in a puddle by his foot. 

“Oh my god, are you okay? What happened?” Lance asked, stepping over the cutlery cluttered over the floor. 

Keith looked up at him and held up an empty plate, half-heartedly singing “Happy one year.”

Lance tilted his head as his face broke into the most genuine smile of his life. He crouched down next to his stupidly adorable husband and picked out a piece of food stuck in his hair, popping it into his mouth. “Happy one year,” he cooed, lightly pulling Keith’s face towards himself, and kissing him.

“I tried making you breakfast, but halfway through I realized I don’t know how to cook,” Keith said, staring at the ground. “Sorry I ruined it.”

Lance kissed his cheek, laughing. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

Keith sighed. “I just wanted to do something special for you.” 

“You’re doing something special by just being in my life and letting me be in yours.” Lance placed Keith’s hand in his. 

“That’s so cheesy.”

“Says the guy covered in an omelette.”

They both broke out in uncontrollable laughter. 

And through his happy tears, Lance’s heart grew a hundred times. It was moments like these, sitting in the horribly messy kitchen, covered in breakfast, laughing until they were crying, stealing quick kisses from each other, that were full of more love and security than any fancy 5-star restaurant dinner could bring them. 

It was the failed attempts at cooking, at a display of love, at a small grand gesture, that meant more to him than any expensive box of chocolates ever could. 

It was these faults, these mistakes made from love, that spoke louder than a romantic getaway. 

So, Lance cherished these fond faults, and held them as close to his heart as he could, always striving to do the same for Keith.


	5. Intimate Simplicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for the 'Domestic' prompt for @vhms0ul 's #fallklancecosytime on instagram.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd recommend listening to 'All Over Again' by Big Time Rush while reading this.

To say that Keith woke up excited would be an understatement. Was it because it was a Saturday morning? No. Was it because him and Lance were having another shirtless breakfast date? No. Was it because he was married to the most exhilarating man to exist? Yup. 

Keith had never been a morning person. Still isn’t, which is why breakfast was at 1pm. He’d also never been excited to wake up, no matter the time. But, ever since Lance razzle dazzled his way into Keith’s heart, he couldn’t help but look forward to what intimate adventures each day would bring. 

After a lifetime’s worth of intergalactic war, big adventures weren’t something Keith fancied, anymore. And neither did Lance. 

Instead, they preferred each other’s company, and when you put two people like Keith and Lance together, many little adventures always sprung out of the ground. 

To many people, these adventures may not even qualify as adventures, but to Keith and Lance, they were the most fun they’d ever have together. 

Keith followed the divine scent of chocolate pancakes into the kitchen, where Lance was just finishing topping them off with blueberries and raspberries. 

Keith closed his eyes and smiled, relishing the soft comfortability of his life. “Goodmornin’,” he said, opening his eyes. 

Lance looked over his shoulder, bopping his head to a soft pop song. “Morning,” he smiled. “Lose the shirt, babe.”

Keith stared down at his chest, immediately tugging his shirt over his head and throwing it onto the couch. “Sorry, I forgot in all my excitement.” 

Shirtless breakfast dates started as a complete accident, but over time, became their favourite tradition. They’d do four or five of them a month, and never got tired of it, and, Keith hoped, they never would get tired. 

He leaned against a wall, watching as his husband existed. Watched the deep breaths move his chest. Watched his eyelashes flutter every time he blinked. Watched his body move along to the music. 

“Uh,” Keith paused his thoughts to get a better listen to the song playing. “Big Time Rush? Really?”

Lance whipped his head around, waving a fork at Keith. “Hey, they’re a great band.”

Keith raised his hands in defense, chuckling as he walked toward Lance, who began placing a couple of slices of chocolate cake on a plate, humming to himself.  


  


_Still got that same look that sets me off_

_Guess there’s just something about you_  
  


  


Keith wrapped his arms around Lance’s waist, digging his face into the crook of his neck, sighing in content. 

Lance placed a quick kiss on his head, turning around to stand face to face. He placed Keith’s hands in his own, a teasing smile dancing on his lips. 

Before he knew it, Lance was swinging them around the kitchen to the beat of the music. 

  


_To the left, left, left_

_On the right, right, right_

_To the back, back, back_

_On the side, side, side_

  


“Lance, slow down, I can’t keep up!” Keith yelled through his ecstatic laughter. 

“You don’t have to keep up. Just hold on,” he said, holding Keith tighter as he guided them across the floor. 

As they passed the island, Lance snatched a quick bite of the cake, not pausing their dance session. 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “I see where your priorities lie.” 

Lance shrugged. “What, I was hungry,” he said through the mouthful of food. 

Keith shook his head, laughing. And as Lance also broke into muffled giggles, Keith couldn’t help but lean in to kiss his ridiculous husband. 

Lance moaned into the kiss, and Keith took that opportunity to slip his tongue past Lance’s lips, sneaking a bit of cake into his own mouth. 

Lance broke the kiss when he realized what had just happened. “Keith, babe, literally what the fuck?”

“What?” Keith teased, unable to control the smile on his face. “I was hungry,” he shrugged. “Plus, it was a 2-in-1 meal.” 

“Oh my god.” Lance covered his face, a slight blush creeping up his neck. 

Keith laughed. “Why the hell are you blushing? We’re married.” He gently pulled Lance’s hands down. 

“Exactly,” he whispered, looking Keith in the eyes. “We’re _married_.” 

It was Keith’s turn to blush. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

Though it may not have been fighting Galra from inside a bunch of giant metal cats, these days brought the two of them the same amount of euphoria, if not more. 

Something so small, so simple, so intimate, making them feel the way they did – it was wonderful. More than wonderful, it was _love_. 

And no amount of fancy words could describe that.

They spent the rest of their morning dancing and eating, while Big Time Rush sang words of wisdom in the background. 

  


_It’s like I’m falling in love, all over again_

_For the first time _

_And I know that it feels right_

  



	6. You Follow the Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the birthday of a friend on instagram, hope y'all like it :)

There were lots of reasons Keith loved sunflowers. 

They all stemmed from one thing: Lance. 

As the dirt caught in his nails and stained his jeans, Keith reminisced of all the ways the dancing field of sunflowers around him mirrored his Lance. 

Well, the dancing, for one, mimicked him flawlessly. The way in which the sunflowers swayed in perfect rhythm with the music of the wind, made it seem like the universe had created the flowers in the image of Lance – like the universe had been waiting and waiting for him to be born, just to find a way to immortalize the sound of his soul in the way the petals fluttered in the wind. 

He thought of the day Nadia taught him how to make flower crowns, and how he’d spent the entire afternoon creating one made entirely out of sunflowers for Lance. He remembered the look on Lance’s face when he received it, and the first taste of his lips that honest August evening. But mostly, he remembered the complete and utter _warmth_ radiating off of Lance as he continued to wear the crown for the rest of the day. 

He mused over last spring, when he and Lance were helping Sylvio press flowers for a school project. He could still feel the graze of Lance’s fingers against his, over the baby sunflower pressed between the cover and first page, as they both reached toward it. 

It was like he’d touched sunlight. 

He thought of the first time Lance touched him, innocent, but life-giving, right there in the sunflower field. 

It’s no secret that sunflowers hold a candid relationship with the sun – the burning life force of the solar system. That’s what Lance felt like. Like thousands upon thousands of suns breathing life into countless galaxies. Pure life and vitality. Endless spirit and exuberance. Absolutely and unequivocally invigorating. 

He remembered the first time they went out. He’d bought Lance a bouquet of sunflowers. His hands madly trembling as he presented what had become the token of their love to the man of his life. He remembered how Lance had laughed, how he’d placed his steady hands on Keith’s, and how he’d placed his whole face in the bouquet to smell the flowers, only to sneeze 90% of the petals off. 

He thought back to the day Lance was full of comprehension. How he’d fallen asleep with a sunflower stuck under his pillow because he read somewhere that it helps if you need to know the truth about something. 

Because that’s who Lance was.

He believed. 

And it worked. 

When Keith had come home late to lay beside him, he heard the first modest whisper of those three little words. But in that moment, they felt big, _oh Lord_, they felt _big_. And, for every moment after that, they always felt big coming from Lance. 

He reminisced of the day they’d promised each other forever, surrounded by their flower, their symbol, their constant reminder of themselves. 

Most of the day was a blur, but Keith remembered the feelings. He felt the unmitigated love in the air from all the people who had come to celebrate their love. He felt the joy in Lance’s soul as he watched him take a step that he had himself convinced he’d never get the chance to take. He felt Lance. He felt _light_. 

And, in his whole life, he’d never been able to explain that phenomena. How Lance could be light. How he could walk into a room and shine that light even in the darkest of corners. How, even when in the depths of his worst days, he could remain facing the sun, no matter where it was. 

The answer had been right in front of him his whole life. 

Just like the blooming sunflower, Lance followed the sun, from east to west, and then, each night he’d face east again, awaiting its arrival. 

And he’d shine, again.


	7. Younger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another birthday drabble for a friend. This one was inspired by her fic "Try Again", which y'all can also find here, it was also inspired by the song 'Younger' by Ruel.

It had been a couple of months since Keith and Lance had officially gotten back together. 

Keith’s close call with a fire had thrown Lance into a pool of his own thoughts, where he realized that he still loved Keith, always did. And he couldn’t wait any longer. 

After their whole “try again” shebacle, it had become apparent that:

1\. Keith was still hot as _fuck_.  
2\. Lance still loved him.   
3\. Keith loved Lance.   
4\. Some deep-rooted self-esteem issues were the reason for everything that happened graduation day, way back when.   
5\. Keith regretted all of it.   
6\. Lance did, too.   
7\. Keith was _hot_ as _fuck_.

And so, they’d worked through all their problems, tirelessly and earnestly. This was something they both wanted, and they knew they’d do anything to keep it. 

~

Lance was in their kitchen cooking up dinner, one evening. The windows were wide open, and a steady flow of steam billowed out into the night, along with the radio playing full blast from the windowsill. 

He heard Keith’s footsteps coming towards the kitchen, and as Lance turned to greet him, the song on the radio changed. 

Lance’s face dropped. 

Keith screeched to a halt in the kitchen, staring at the radio in horror. 

If it had been a couple of months ago, Lance wouldn’t have noticed it. But ever since he heard Keith singing to himself while nonchalantly folding laundry, he knew something sounded familiar. 

Of course, he’d heard Keith sing before. In high school. A billion years ago. 

His voice had changed. And apparently, so had his name. 

“_You’re_ AKIRA?!?!” Lance bellowed. 

Keith grimaced. “Lance-”

Lance threw his arms in the air, and his spatula too. “You wrote a _song_ about me?!” His enthusiasm was unparalleled. 

“Uhhhh . . .” Keith scratched his head. 

“KEITH!” he yelled, jumping up and down. “This is my favourite song ever! If I had any idea it was _you_ . . .” he trailed off in an excited stupor, only stopping when he saw a tear slip down Keith’s face. 

“Woah,” he pulled Keith into a hug. “What’s wrong?” 

Keith buried his face into the crook of Lance’s neck. “I just missed you,” he said, words muffled. 

Lance tightened the hug. “I missed you too, Mullet.” He rubbed Keith’s back. “I guess you sorta never really left me, huh?”

Keith pulled back, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Lance wiped away a stray tear from Keith’s cheek. “I had this song on repeat for _years_, and never got sick of it.” 

Keith sniffled. “It was the only song of mine that ever took off. Guess it was because of you.”

Lance laughed. “Why’d you sing it under a pen name?”

“I guess it was just so. . . personal, that-”

“Personal like the hippo song?” Lance said, wearing a shit-eating grin.

Keith looked absolutely betrayed. “How dare you bring that up right now, McClain.”

Lance stepped away from Keith, rounding the kitchen island. “I WANT A HIPPOPOTAMUS FOR CHRISTMAS!” he scream-sang. 

“Lance!” Keith lunged at him, trying to get him to shut up about his embarrassing past. 

Lance ran across the apartment, laughing hysterically, Keith’s jacked ass right on his tail. 

And he thought, he could get used to this. 

Him and Keith. 

Every day. 

Trying again and again for each other. 

Oh yeah. He’d love that. 

_When we were younger, younger _   



	8. Pull Me In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a part of the prompts for Klancember, from Instagram. I merged two of the prompts together for this: home+hands throughout the years.

It happened during the holidays, the first time they’d touched. 

Somehow, it was always during the holidays that the big moments happened for them. Perhaps it was the magic of the season, or that Keith and Lance gravitated toward each other when their homes were countless light years away, or maybe it was just coincidence. 

Whatever the reason, Keith loved it, and it helped make the holidays feel like the holidays again. 

Their first Thanksgiving in space, he’d just argued with Lance over something so trivial, he couldn’t remember. 

As all the Paladins sat around the dinner table, hearts full and smiles wide, Keith couldn’t help but feel the opposite. The fact that Lance kept staring at him didn’t help. That is, until after dinner, when a knock on his door pulled him out of his thoughts, and a light hand on his shoulder threw him into a whirlwind of a spiral that he couldn’t quite understand until the next time it happened. 

It was a month later, Christmas eve, and Voltron had taken its closest call. Everyone was exhausted, moping around the Castle of Lions, disparity evident between their distress hanging in the air, looming over the cheery Christmas lights. 

Keith was flumped down beside the holographic Christmas tree, trying, to no avail, to bandage his bruised hands. Exhaustion mixed with his frustration was not helping him tend to his injuries, which only added to his frustration. 

Lance had hobbled over, his leg covered in countless bandages and whatnot, snatching the bandages out of Keith’s hands, taking over. 

Keith grumbled, “I can do it myself.” 

“Clearly that’s going great for you,” Lance retorted, settling down next to him on the floor. 

He reached for Keith’s hands and pulled them closer to himself, completely unaware of the fiery red dancing on Keith’s face, who, in turn, was the other oblivious idiot, not noticing the exact same reaction from Lance. 

And as Lance’s impossibly careful hands covered Keith’s scratches and bruises, Keith felt it – that weird pull, the longing, the I-need-to-be-around-you-all-the-time-or-I’ll-stop-breathing. 

The comfort. 

The placidity. 

The amnesty. 

All the things he never knew represented _home_. 

And for the fear of losing that feeling, he never said anything. He kept to himself, but remained as physically close to Lance as he could, to soak in the warmth of his home. 

Until, a year later, when Keith sat trembling in his room from memories he’d rather forget. 

It was Lance who’d found him. It was Lance who’d put his warm hands around Keith’s cold ones. It was Lance who’d been there for Keith ever since they’d met. And it was Lance who’d made the first move, and kissed Keith like there was no tomorrow. 

He wanted to let Lance just pull him in and never let go. Deeper and deeper, until their souls became one. 

Another year passed, filled with more joy, ease, and love than Keith had ever known. 

The Paladins sat gathered around the Christmas tree, content with things as they were, laughing and singing, revelling in the utter _warmth_ of found family. 

Keith and Lance had gone from shy, stolen grazes, to open and loving touches, though it had taken a while. They sat cuddled together under a blanket, watching the other Paladins open their presents. 

Lance’s fingers softly traced the veins on Keith’s, who watched as the act soothed the love of his life into a sleepy daze. Soon enough, Lance had fallen asleep, his head on Keith’s shoulder, and fingers now intertwined. 

And, once again, Keith felt something new. 

Everything around him had finally slowed down. It wasn’t as loud, anymore. And he could hear Lance’s heartbeat against him. 

His gaze drifted down to their hands, and he was hit with the overwhelming urge to stay like that forever. And one day, they would. 

He promised himself he’d put a ring on Lance’s finger. 

His home. 

His love. 

His . . . everything.


	9. If This is What it Takes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another birthday drabble, lol. This was inspired by 'If This is What it Takes' by Shawn Mendes.

Keith unlocked the door, keys jingling, heavy in his tired hands. 

As he made his way into his apartment, he was surprised to find all the curtains shut, afternoon sunlight seeping in only through the tears and corners, painting the floor in a series of flickering shapes. 

And on the couch tucked under the window, lay his husband, cushioned under various pillows and blankets, sound asleep. 

Normally, this would’ve been a sight for sore eyes, but something was off. 

Something, just in the mood . . . 

Keith could feel it sitting heavy in the air that . . . 

_Lance had a bad day._

He immediately dropped all his things, softly though, as not to wake Lance up, and made his way to the couch. 

Gently, he sat down on the edge of the couch, lifting Lance’s head and moving himself under, placing it down on his lap. Softly. 

He was always soft with Lance. 

With the back of his fingers, he pushed Lance’s bangs out of his face, the pads of his fingers too rough from years of neglect and overuse to touch Lance’s face. He couldn’t bear to hurt Lance. 

Hurting Lance was the last thing he’d ever want to do. 

He watched with an intent ambivalence as Lance’s troubled eyes flitted around in his sleep. He couldn’t help but feel dejected about whatever turned Lance upside down, but glad that Lance had come to a place where he let Keith take care of him on his bad days. 

He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Lance’s forehead, hoping it carried all the love, warmth, and healing Lance needed in that moment. 

Lance turned and wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist, nuzzling his face against his stomach, and Keith couldn’t help but smile. 

Keith had never been one for grand proclamations of love and care, but after he met Lance, he felt sort of like shit about that. Lance was a big, loud person. Literally, sure, but also in his demeanour, the way he carried himself, the way he raised spirits wherever he went, like lighting up lightbulbs in his wake. 

Some people hated that about Lance. Despised it. 

But not Keith. 

Lance would sometimes try to hold that light in. Try to hide it from the world, from himself. 

And it would tear him apart. 

As they lay on the couch together, Keith could _see_ the light resisting the tight hold of the seams Lance had sewn. 

Over the years, Keith found that through the boisterous personality and flagrant flirting, lay a bittersweet soul longing for only the simplest pleasures of the universe. 

Lance didn’t need Keith to serenade him with a flash mob and romantic dinner. He needed Keith to hold him when he had a rough day. 

Lance didn’t need Keith to tackle his every problem for him. He needed Keith’s shoulder to lean on in those moments. 

Lance didn’t need Keith to rip open his seams for him. He needed Keith to hold his hand as he figured himself out. 

And if that’s what it would take for Keith to convince Lance he’s worthy of all the love and light of the stars, he’d do it. 

He’d be damned if he ever let anyone snuff out Lance’s light.


	10. Maybe it's Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this lil drabble for #klancelockdownweek2020 on instagram. bon appetite.

“Well, this is ironic.”

Keith shifted on his feet, way too uncomfortable in his current . . . situation. “What the hell do you mean?” he snapped. 

Lance let his head fall back against a stack of boxes, smirking. “This,” he said, simply. 

Keith frowned, attempting to hide his rising panic. “I don’t have time to play your stupid guessing games.”

Lance’s chest rose and stopped hard against Keith’s as footsteps echoed in the hall. 

Keith shut his eyes, trying to focus on anything but his heart hammering against his chest, and no doubt against Lance’s, too. 

They were stuck. 

In a closet, of all places. 

So much for infiltrating a Galra base. With the way the two of them were pushed up against each other, they were infiltrating each other’s bases. 

Proactive. 

Once the footsteps receded, Keith let go a deep breath, feeling Lance do the same. “So, back to the irony of this moment,” he continued, staring Keith down with a piercing blue gaze. 

Keith shot him a warning glare. 

Lance leaned his head down beside Keith’s, whispering low. “I know you know, Kogane.”

Keith shivered. 

“You,” his eyes wandered to Keith’s lips. “Me,” they slowly met Keith’s eyes, who swallowed hard. 

He knew what Lance was getting at, and there was no escaping the conversation, now. He could feel Lance’s lingering gaze on him as the gears turned in his head, wondering . . . wondering. 

It’s not that he was ashamed or embarrassed. Keith knew from the moment he first laid eyes on Lance back at the Garrison, that he was done for. Then, Voltron happened, and he didn’t really have time to work out all the nitty gritty intricacies of the pull he felt towards Lance. But, it was blatantly obvious. He was just. . . scared. 

Lance knew his own feelings, and Keith’s as well. They danced around each other, spinning and spinning, getting lost in the thrill of the movement, never once stopping to catch their breaths. 

Until now. 

Maybe it was fate the two of them were assigned to this mission. Maybe it was fate they worked so well as a team. Maybe it was fate that a Galra sentry was roaming the hall they were in. Maybe it was fate that Lance pulled Keith and ducked into the nearest room. Maybe it was fate the room was a cramped closet. 

And maybe it was fate Lance said the next few words, because Keith had almost begun to give up on the idea of existing for the rest of forever with Lance. 

“What do you say we both get out of here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was sort of a metaphor for coming out,, idk if that was clear or not. probably not. rip.


	11. Reach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for a friend's bday on instagram

They say opposites attract. 

A person naturally gravitates towards someone who complements the depths of their presence. It’s the thrill of the chase, the excitement, the leisure of the knowledge that boredom is a far away concern. 

When two opposites attract, there’s a silent _click_\- the starting point of the structure of their selves. Then, there’s a give and take, a push and pull, building up, up, up. And throughout the building, there’s a constant- moments of need and want. 

There’s a reach. 

No matter the circumstances, one thing Keith and Lance always had, was that. They always ended up reaching for each other, in every situation- in the good and the bad, the happy and the sad, the highs and the lows. And they knew they’d never stop being each other’s anchors. 

Like when they’re sleeping. No matter where they were or how far apart they were laying, their hands would shyly find one another, settling into each other with comfort reserved for lovers. 

If Keith reached out first, he’d slide his hand across the bed, fingers gently walking up the curves and edges of Lance’s face, resting on his cheek. Lance’s hand would rest on top of his and a warm breath would flutter against Keith’s forearm. 

If Lance reached out first, his hand would gently tap Keith’s, maybe with a dash of the apprehension of new lovers, no matter the time that passed. Keith’s hand would take Lance’s, fingers fitting between his like a perfect puzzle, and he’d pull it against his lips, pressing a promise of faith against his knuckles, then hold it against his heart until morning. 

Or, they reached for the other in moments of blinding anger. They could yell and argue, but it would be a safe anger, where they could still hold each other’s hearts in the palms of their hands, trusting the other not to crush it. 

Whenever Lance felt that anger, he’d reach out to Keith, who was all too familiar with the feeling. Keith would talk to him, just talk, and the reach would be worth it. His fingers would end up in Lance’s hair, a soothing gesture that usually led him to sleep, where he’d, once again, reach for Keith. 

Even when on missions, they’d reach for each other, working together like a team. Whenever Keith hit a roadblock, he’d call for Lance, who somehow always knew the right thing to say. Whenever Lance found himself lost or stuck, he’d look to Keith for guidance, trusting his every word, believing in the authority of his leadership. 

That trust built toward their mutual captaincy- both of them at the helm of Voltron, leading to their victory and early return to Earth. 

Then, they reached for each other in simpler, more intimate ways. With the war won and the team back home, there were no life-or-death situations begging them to grab every moment they could. Instead, it was their future waiting for them on the horizon, calling them to lose themselves in its pursuit. 

So, they reached for it. 

Again and again, every single day.


End file.
